


Bedroom Talk

by coricomile



Series: BB!Patrick Makes a Sex Tape [3]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: Patrick’s other hand comes down across his back, warm and gentle, curving around his shoulderblade. Pete hums into Patrick’s chest and tries not to hump his leg like a puppy.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Series: BB!Patrick Makes a Sex Tape [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/285393
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	Bedroom Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Clearing out the backlog.

Patrick is a dirty cheater. Pete frowns at his cards and tells him so. Patrick laughs, bright and loud and Pete maybe forgives him. Maybe. His clothes are in a pile next to his bed, the results of five lost rounds of strip rummy. Patrick's only lost his socks. This is not on. Pete lays down a five of clubs, fingers tapping on the cool sheets of the bed. Patricia isn't home, and it probably would have been safe to play downstairs in the dining room, but Pete had had other plans. Patrick is doing a pretty good job of shattering them.

"You are a killjoy, Patrick Stump," he says as Patrick lays down a trio of kings.

"Your idea, Wentz." Patrick discards and spreads his hands smugly. Pete frowns again. "My round. Take it off."

Pete loves being naked. It's a fact that Patrick- and Joe, and Andy, and too many kids in the scene to remember- have gotten used to. What he loves more? Is the look Patrick gives him as he shoves his boxer-briefs off onto the floor in one swift motion, baring himself proudly. Patrick's a shade of ego-flattering pink, and his hands are wrapped tightly around his knees. He laughs, but it's weak, and Pete rolls his eyes.

"So, you know you can kiss me, right? That's what the whole dating thing was for- I get to grope you in public and-" Pete is forced to stop mid-sentence by the press of Patrick's lips to his own. He grins and pulls Patrick closer to him, laughs as Patrick tackles him down to the floor.

The rug is uncomfortable against Pete's back and ass, but Patrick is warm and heavy above him, all big eyes and wet mouth and stupid hat, and Pete wouldn't choose to be anywhere else ever. He wraps his arms around Patrick's waist and sighs against the soft lips that are still moving against his.

It's been a little over a week since they 'got together', and things are a little shaky. Pete wants to tattoo Patrick's face on his chest and show it off to the world. Patrick. Well, he just wants to find level footing. Pete forgets sometimes that Patrick isn't him- that he doesn't have the laundry list of exes and relationships and the knowledge that comes with that. So, he's willing to wait for Patrick to get comfortable before he pulls out the grand gestures.

Patrick's jeans chafe a little against Pete's thighs where Patrick's settled in. Pete takes the logical step and goes for his fly. This results in Patrick jerking and falling against him, knocking the air out of both of them. Pete laughs when he's able to, rolling Patrick over to lay on top of him.

"Dude, relax." He nuzzles his nose against Patrick's neck, content in his sprawl. He can hear Patrick's heart beating, and he wants to write a hundred songs to the beat of it. And Patrick does relax, settling down, one hand on the small of Pete’s back, the other resting above his head. Pete’s halfway to a nap when Patrick’s little finger moves slowly, stretching out to touch the top of his ass. And that, he thinks, is pretty much awesome.

He lays still as the rest of Patrick’s hand follows. It’s warm and hesitant, and Pete’s doing his level best not to grin. Patrick’s thumb brushes over his tailbone, the rest of his fingers curled around the swell of Pete’s ass. He squeezes gently, quickly. Pete’s dick twitches.

They haven’t actually fucked yet. Not that they haven’t tried. But, between mothers and siblings and school and the band, their time alone is restricted mostly to Pete’s mom’s car, and Pete’s not really going to let Patrick lose his v-card in the backseat. So this, this is nice. Pete sees where this is headed.

Patrick’s other hand comes down across his back, warm and gentle, curving around his shoulderblade. Pete hums into Patrick’s chest and tries not to hump his leg like a puppy. Patrick traces patterns across the planes of his back, the hand on Pete’s ass still and hot. The swell of his hard-on is pressing up against Pete’s stomach, and he’s quiet, quiet, quiet.

Pete kisses him, wet and dirty, and that seems to be all that Patrick needs. He rolls them over, presses Pete to the ground with his hips. Pete groans, pulling Patrick back against him. The jeans are still too rough, but the press of Patrick’s dick against his feels pretty fantastic. Patrick sucks at his neck, and Pete loves him because Jesus he gets off on the thought of people seeing who he belongs to.

“Shirt,” he says thickly. Patrick sits back long enough to yank his t-shirt up and off, falling back down as soon as it’s gone. Pete fans his hands over Patrick’s shoulders, scratches his bitten nails down across the smooth skin. Patrick whines against his throat, thrusting down harder.

Patrick slides down Pete’s front, kisses his collarbone, licks his nipple ring. He settles onto his stomach, pushing Pete’s thighs apart. Pete is so okay with this plan. Patrick leans over him and wets his lips. Pete is maybe in heaven.

Patrick’s mouth is hot and wet and Pete’s brain short circuits as Patrick takes in too much, gagging a little around him before letting up. Pete digs his fingers into the carpet and wills himself to keep still. This is easier said than done because Patrick starts bobbing his head up and down, and it’s maybe the sloppiest blowjob Pete’s ever gotten, but that is Patrick fucking Stump sucking his dick and this is the best moment of his life.

Patrick’s thumb rubs over his balls, down, down, down, and then it’s pressing at Pete’s hole, and there’s spit drooling down from his dick there already. Pete loses the battle of will over his hips and they jerk. Patrick winces, but he doesn’t let up. His thumb rubs once, twice, and then he presses in.

“Shit,” Pete hisses, drawing his knees up. Patrick pulls out, and Pete feels more than sees him suck a finger into his mouth, holding it alongside his dick. Pete thumps his head back against the floor. He is going to die and it is going to be so worth it.

Patrick presses his slick finger into him maybe too fast, and it’s been a while since Pete’s been on this side, but the burn is sweet and Patrick’s looking up at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks and wet lips and it’s perfect. He lifts off Pete’s cock, and Pete grunts his disapproval.

“Pete,” Patrick says, voice a little raspy. “Can I fuck you?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” Pete chokes out. He gropes for his jeans, moaning when Patrick eases a second finger into him. He manages to pull his wallet out and he drops it onto his stomach, hands gone stupid. Patrick curls his fingers, and explosions go off behind Pete’s eyes. “Oh, god. Patrick- PatrickPatrickPatrick.” He presses down against Patrick’s hand greedily. He can feel knuckles against his ass, and Patrick’s gnawing on his lower lip, eyes wide and dark.

Patrick fumbles one handed with the fly of his jeans, and if Pete could focus, he’d be pretty impressed. As it is, all he knows is that Patrick has managed to get naked- which is the best thing in the universe- and that the fingers in his ass are slowly pulling out. His wallet is no longer on his stomach, but open on the floor, his license and CVS card spilled out on the carpet, and the condom that he’d packed in it is missing.

He hears Patrick moan softly above him, and when he looks, Patrick’s sliding the condom on, stroking himself more than necessary. Pete’s dick jumps. He scrambles up and presses his mouth hard to Patrick’s. Their teeth bump, and Patrick’s mouth is too wet, and Pete’s arms are shaking. He turns on his knees and bends forward, bracing himself on his elbows, and thrusts his ass back at Patrick.

“Shit.” Patrick lays one open palm on the small of Pete’s back. It slides a little, passes over the bumps of Pete’s vertebrae. Then, the slick, blunt head of his cock is pressing against Pete’s asshole. He presses in slowly, and Pete grunts, pressing his forehead to his arms. He maybe should have had Patrick stretch him more, but it’s too late now, and he’s not giving up on the high sound Patrick’s making as he inches forward ever.

Patrick still as he bottoms out, hips pressed flush to Pete’s. His hands curl around Pete’s hips, nails digging into his stomach, and Pete’s probably going to have red marks there for days. The thought makes him giddy. Slowly, for himself as much as for Pete, Patrick pulls back. Pete chokes when he thrust back in again. He presses back, asks for more in a rough, raw voice. And Patrick. Patrick gives it to him.

The sound of their hips smacking together is obscene, loud and wet and filthy. Pete’s going to have rug burn on his knees and elbows, but his red knees will match Patrick’s, and that’s enough to make it alright. He presses back, meets Patrick’s messy rhythm. He feels Patrick’s hands tighten on his hips, and he’s expecting to hear the high, breathy sound Patrick makes when he comes-

And then he’s on his back, Patrick between his legs, pushing his thighs apart and sliding back in again. If he could speak properly, he’d ask Patrick to marry him. Instead, he wraps a fist around his dick and jerks himself off in time to Patrick’s deep, breathless curses. Patrick’s rhythm- already erratic- goes a little crazy, and there it is, the high whine in his throat that means he’s coming. He slides to the floor, and Pete winces when his dick slips out. Then, Patrick’s mouth is on him again, fingers pressing inside him fast and hard. Pete thrusts his hips up, and oh god Patrick swallows down what he can, pulling back when it’s too much. Come dribbles from the corner of his mouth, and that shouldn’t be hot but it is. Jesus, it is.

Pete pulls Patrick up, curling into him. They breathe in the same stale air, grinning like idiots. Patrick yanks the sheet down from his bed and covers them with it. It’s cool on Pete’s hot skin, and Patrick’s making sleepy faces at him, and Pete. Pete is in love.

“I love you, Patrick Stump,” he says, because it’s true. Patrick buries his face in Pete’s chest, and it’s hot, and Pete’s pretty willing to bet it isn’t just from the sex.

“Go to sleep, Pete,” Patrick says. So Pete does.


End file.
